Familial Duties
by Pointy Toe Shoes
Summary: Scion - Hero: Being a Hitwoman for your uncle isn't all it's cracked up to be. Discovering your Divine parentage doesn't exactly make things easier.
1. Yet Another Working Night

A Scion: Hero story. I'd really appreciate reviews. Also, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any glaring mistakes. If you feel like correcting me, go ahead, just be nice about it ;)

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

With shaking hands Sophia pushed another clip of ammunition into the gun – a Swiss Sig Sauer that had already been used in three hold-ups in as many states and would see its last use today – and tried to keep her breathing under control.

This was supposed to be an easy job. Connor employed a pair of bodyguards who guarded both his office and the entrance to the building when he was working late, but somebody had been sloppy on their background check. One of them had a son of three, the other had a severe gambling problem with debts to match, and that had been the end of that. The plan had been to get in through the fire exit, walk into his office and put a bullet into Connor's brain.

Well, to be fair, up to that point everything had been dandy.

The sound of clumsy steps brought her to her feet again. Taking a deep breath Sophia abandoned her cover to make the most of her range advantage and brought Connor into the cross hairs of her gun. He was almost unrecognizable. The tiny hole in his forehead was the least of it. Two more bullets had shattered his right cheekbone and his chest was a virtual sieve. His expression had changed however. A few minutes ago, in his office, he had seemed to be confused more than anything else when she had put bullet after bullet into his chest. Only when he had touched the back of his head and his fingers had come back red and gray he had seemed to comprehend what was happening. At that point Sophia had already retreated into the corridor.

Now his face was contorted into a bloody mask of rage. The sight of him made her emit a high-pitched whining noise, but the plopping sound of her silenced gun drowned it out as she emptied another round into Connor. By rights he should be dead, but apart from the impact force the bullets didn't even slow him down.

Almost hypnotized Sophia stepped back, frantically counting the bullets. This was her last magazine.

Suddenly her foot got entangled with something - an abandoned mop and bucket, of all things – and before she could do something to regain her balance she was flat on her back, down to her last bullet.

Connor threw himself onto her, in the obscene mockery of an embrace, and the muzzle of her gun connected firmly with his abdomen. His stomach exploded when she pulled the trigger, but he didn't seem to notice. His hands closed around her throat and slowly started to squeezed the life out of her.

"Hold it." It wasn't a very loud voice, but it commanded obedience nevertheless. Connor froze instinctively and turned his ruined face to stare at the newcomer. Grasping for the opportunity Sophia wiggled herself out of his grip and tried to make a run for it.

"You too, girl", the voice added calmly, and without really knowing why she stood and turned to face a portly man in his fifties, dressed to the nines and although his mouth and eyes were framed by stern lines his dark hair was unmarred by silver lines. There was something vaguely familiar about him, although Sophia was certain she had never seen him before. Also, he was unarmed and alone.

"Who ah heou?" Connor demanded to know in a slurry voice and made a threatening step towards the man.

For a few seconds the other regarded him thoughtfully, then waved a hand dismissively. "Sit and be quiet."

Judging by what was left of his expression Connor was just as surprised as Sophia when his legs folded under him.

"Come, child. We have to talk." Apparently oblivious of the gun she was still holding he took her by the elbow, led her to a comfortably cushioned sofa and sat her down.

Trying to ignore the dead man's murderous glare, Sophia gave him a nervous stare. After a second's consideration she pulled the gun's safety switch and slipped it into her jacket. "Now... now what?" she murmured, trying to meet the man's eyes but failing miserably.

"Now we'll do the introductions", he told her flatly and leaned back, his arms comfortably spread over the backrest. "You are Sophia Bontate, daughter of Maria Bontate – you are her spitting image, actually – twenty four years old and killer-for-hire in service of your uncle Salvatore Abatino." He paused for a few seconds to let her digest that. "I am your father."

Sophia frowned. "No, you're not."

He ignored that. "My name is Hades. Does that sound familiar?"

"As in 'Lord of the Dead, hi, how ya doing'?"

He turned to look at her, _really_ look at her, and when those dark eyes met hers she flinched. "We will pretend you did not just say that" he told her calmly.

"Sounds great, sounds great", she said hastily. "So, uh, that old Greek God of the Underworld, yes?"

"Yes. If you know the stories you should also know that my kind sometimes joins with mortals – which can result in children."

Suddenly Sophia felt a chill, deep, deep in her bones. "Okay. Okay, I see where this is going. But, even if you're really – you know..." Actually, considering that Connor was still glaring at her, even though he now contained the better part of two magazines of bullets, it was almost impossible not to believe him. But as for the father part, why would he even think- Hang on...

"Holy flippin'- You did my mom!"

Her self-proclaimed father raised an eyebrow and even Connor gave a disparaging snort. To her vast annoyance Sophia felt herself blush. Trying to save whatever dignity was left to her she added: "I suppose you already did a divine paternity test or something?"

"Or something, yes", the old god told her gravely. "Suffice to say that my divine ichor – blood – runs through your veins and you are mine in the eyes of the fate. Which is why I bothered to save your life from that corpse over there."

"Lovely", Sophia muttered. "So, if you didn't to this..." She pointed vaguely at Connor. "... what's the matter with him?"

Hades sighed deeply. It sounded like the wind whispering in an old cave. "The Gods are at war. Not just those of my Pantheon, but also the old ones from Egypt, the young Loa and many others. For the Titans are rising, seeking to destroy both us and the realm of mortals. The Underworld is in disarray as well; souls escape or - like it happened with him - aren't collected in time."

"Oh." Somehow this didn't sound like an appropriate response to such a world-shattering revelation, so she added: "Is it serious? I mean, could it bring about the apocalypse or something?"

"Yes", he stated flatly. "And the Overworld is not the only battlefield. Lots of collateral damage wrecks this realm as well, and the Titans release their vile spawn into the world to open up another front and tie our forces here. Which is why we need every soldier we can get."

"Ah...."

He gave her a stern look. "Yes, that means you as well."

"Just checking", she muttered. "So you want me to shoot zombies?"

A faint smile played around his lips. "Those walking dead will be the least of your troubles, dear. Which is why I give you this." A sleek golden necklace slid out of his sleeve and with the deft motions of an old-fashioned gentleman he fastened it around her neck."

Confused, Sophia took up the little pendant. It took her a few seconds to recognize it for a gilded half-eaten fig. Hades noticed her confused frown and without looking at her he muttered: "I trust you are familiar with the legend of Persephone?"

She vaguely remembered the story of a girl who spent half of every year in the underworld. It had something to do with a half-eaten apple or something like that. Then the penny dropped. "This is the actual... Wow! I mean, uh... Thank you?"

"Use it wisely. It represents – and thus it is – a tiny fraction of the Underworld. You can use it to summon souls that you hold a strong spiritual connection to."

"Wait, what kind of connection? What souls?"

"Souls such as him", Hades said and pointed at the other man in the room, who was by now kneeling in a steadily growing puddle of his own blood. "You killed him, after all. That creates a strong bond that allows you to summon him at will. And make him serve you."

"What?" asked Sophia.

"Hwaf?" asked Connor.

"As an adviser, for example. I understand he is very versed in illegal matters in this country, I am sure his knowledge will come in handy. For souls without that connection you will of course need an amplifier, made of memories or blood."

"Will they bring their bodies with them, too?" Sophia asked, horrified.

"Of course not", Hades said with a dark smile. "Watch this." He waved a hand at Connor, who very unceremoniously dropped to the floor. In his place an ethereal and slightly transparent version of him remained, lacking the bullet holes but still sporting a very annoyed scowl.

"He'll stay here for an hour or two, until the ferryman comes around to collecting him. To summon him again you have to sacrifice a pair of black and white mammals, you know the deal", he explained.

Sophia didn't know the deal, but she planned to do some research on the subject. "Uh huh. So... so now what?"

"Now I want you to go down south. There are two more Scions down there – children to other gods than I. On your own you wouldn't last a week." He rose. "Don't embarrass me, little Scion. And give your lovely mother my regards." Without haste he made for the elevator – the one Sophia had disabled earlier. The doors opened instantly and for a second the scents of a very cold river filled the room. Then the doors closed again and he was gone.

With a deep sigh Sophia closed her eyes and leaned back. "This is a terrible night", she sighed.

"You want to talk about terrible nights?" Connor asked her. The ghost or shade or whatever stood up and tried to make a few steps on his insubstantial legs. "You just shot me, woman."

"Listen, buddy, you're a drug kingpin and a small-time arms dealer who thought it was a smart idea to cheat your clients. You are so not allowed to complain." She rubbed her temple. "Boy, Uncle Sal is going to hate this."

"Shouldn't you worry more about that God that knocked up your mother?"

"Hey, can it", she snapped. "Anyway, he may be a god and he may be my father, but Uncle Sal still runs people through a wood chipper."

"I'm so very much not sorry."

"Oh, shut up."


	2. Sorting Out The Details

**Chapter 2:**

After getting away from the crime scene and from what passed for a vengeful ghost nowadays Sophia went straight to her mother's home. It was a nice little mansion out in the suburbs where the lawns were always impeccable, the windows were clean and the neighbors were nice. Sophia still had a spare key and as silent as a mouse – or as a professional killer, come to think of it – she walked up to her mother's bedroom. The man she had always thought of as Dad was currently in prison – for tax fraud of all things. He would be out in about five weeks, to retake his place as his brother-in-law's right hand man. While Sophia looked forward to having him around again, right now his absence was convenient. Of course, even before his conviction he and her mother had slept in separate rooms for years.

Actually, that might have been a tip-off.

She sneaked into the room, sat down on the bed a gently started to shake her mother. "Mom?" she whispered.

"Kitten?" Her mother stirred in her sleep. She was a tiny bird-like woman with silver lining in her black hair. "What happened, are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine, it's just... I met someone on the job tonight", Sophia whispered. "He claimed to be my father."

Suddenly wide awake her mother got up into a sitting position. "Really."

"Yes" she sighed, fidgeting nervously with the fig-shaped pendant around her neck. "I kind of believe him."

Her mother looked down on her folded hands. Somehow her silence told Sophia everything she needed to know.

"Does... does Dad know?"

"He always knew" her mother whispered, gently stroking Sophia's face. "That's why we married, so he could protect me."

"I see." She only vaguely remembered her grandfather, but some of the older goons in her uncle's service told stories. He had not been the kind of man that took well to his daughter getting pregnant out of wedlock. Sophia's Dad had probably saved her mother's life.

Her mother gently stroked her face. "Don't be sad, Kitten. We had a good life, your father and I. We still do. He never regretted anything, I want you to know that."

Sophia tried to smile, but she still couldn't fight back the tears. For a time mother and daughter just held each other, crying silently, mourning what might have been.

* * *

Half an hour later they were sitting in the spacious kitchen, enjoying huge mugs of hot cocoa. "So, are you going to see him again? Your biological father?"

Sophia sighed. "Well, he didn't seem too keen on, y'know, a father-daughter relationship. But he offered me a job. Trying to make amends, I guess. He also sends his regards to you, for what it's worth." She hesitated. How on Earth did you phrase 'Did he strike you as god-like' innocently? Finally she asked: "What was he like, back then?"

"Oh, terribly moody. I met him at a barbecue, some high-society event. Salvatore was looking for business contacts and so was Dímis."

It took Sophia a few seconds to connect that name with the cold-eyed man she had met earlier, but in a way it was easier than reconciling his uncaring attitude with the fond memories behind her mother's eyes.

"There was something sad about him", she continued. "But he always treated me like a queen – not like a princess, like your grandfather, but a queen. And when he touched me-"  
"Moom!"

She chuckled, and her cheeks flushed slightly. "I'm sorry. Anyway, we met in July; he left after about six weeks. I cried, of course, but somehow I always knew he wouldn't stay." She sighed. "And then, two months later, I noticed that I was pregnant."

"Uh huh." To her mild embarrassment Sophia felt herself blush. Privately she always liked to pretend that her mother was oblivious to the concept of sex in general.

"So, he offered you a job?" her mother finally asked, sensing her daughter's discomfort with the subject of her siring. "I take it his little business scheme was successful, then. What kind of job?"

"Eh, he wasn't too specific. I guess I'd spend a lot of time on the road as a glorified do-girl. Of course I'd rather-"

"Do it."

Sophia blinked, then tried to get back on track. "I mean, the pay would be-"

"Do it" her mother repeated, her voice sounding final. A little softer she continued: "Look, Kitten, I may have years of practice at being blind and deaf. But I know what you are doing for Salvatore."

Biting her lower lip, Sophia averted her eyes. "I never wanted that for you", her mother continued. "Your uncle – you wouldn't know that, looking at him now, but when we were children he was such a sweet boy. I watched as the life he led – had to lead – turned him into the man he is today. And I vowed that I would protect my own child from that."

She cupped her daughter's face in her hands. "Maybe I didn't do a very good job, there", she continued ruefully. "But I'll be damned if I let you keep doing this if you have a way out."

"But Uncle Sal..."

"If he won't let you go, I'll make him." It should have sounded ridiculous. It was ridiculous. Her uncle was one of the main movers and shakers of organized crime in the area – people trembled at the sight of him. Literally. But right here, right now, none of that mattered.

"Thank you, Mom", Sophia whispered. "I just hope this isn't a huge mistake."

"Don't you worry, Kitten. It's not important what this new job of yours is. At least you won't have to-" She interrupted herself, as if she couldn't bear to say it out loud. "At least you'll be safe."

"Yeah", Sophia whispered. Closing her eyes she could see Connor's face, contorted into a mask of pure hatred, even after her bullets had ripped his internal organs to shreds. "Sure. I'll be safe"

* * *

By now it was well past midnight, but her uncle was still attending to some business in his lumber mill. Sophia hated that place – which was the idea, of course. Salvatore had originally bought this place as a way to launder his ill-gotten gains but his niece privately suspected that he also liked to negotiate with people with the unspoken threat of huge saws and dozens of quickly rotating knives all around them. She dreaded the day he managed to get his hands on a slaughterhouse.

"There you are, Doll" he greeted her with his best favorite-uncle-smile. He had called her that all her life, ever since he had dangled her on his knees when she had been a toddler. Of course it would be weird for him to call her something else now, just because she killed people for him. "How did it go? I trust everything went smoothly."

Coughing nervously Sophia seated herself. "Well, I wouldn't say smoothly" she murmured carefully, and of course the old man's smile faded.

"But he's dead, isn't he?"

"As a doornail", she assured him hastily. "It's just that thinks got... messy."

Actually, messy was a pretty accurate description. Lots of bullets in Connor, some more stuck in the bulletproof window behind his desk, a trail of blood from his office to the lounge, even more bullets along the way and unless she was very much mistaken another one stuck in the ceiling with the better part of Connor's lunch. After Hades' stylish disappearance Sophia had raided the minibar and soaked the corpse in various hard liquors to ignite it and hopefully burn away whatever DNA traces she had left on his body during their brief struggle. The forensic evidence guy would probably have the time of his life.

To make matters worse, all the while Sophia had cleaned up after herself as best as she could Connor's ghost had loudly and vocally complained to her. Thankfully he had been unable to follow her when she had quietly slipped out of the building.

"But other than that..?" Uncle Sal looked at her sharply, scrutinizing her face.

"No witnesses, no fingerprints, no traces of DNA", Sophia sighed. "I'll dismantle the gun later and make it disappear. The only thing that connects this death to you would be your motif."

"Bah, that's fine then" her uncle decided after thinking it over a few seconds. Leaning back he regarded her thoughtfully. "So what else can I do for my favorite niece today?"

"Actually I was thinking about taking some time off", she told him flatly. "Get out of town for a while."

"Really. Why?"

All the way from her parents' home she had wrecked her brain about what to tell him, any reason he might understand. She hadn't found one. "Look, I need a break" she sighed, averting her eyes. "There is something I have to do, down south. Nothing to do with the family, just... something personal."

Her uncle sighed gravely. "You know it's not that easy. You can't just walk away." His voice sounded final. The fact that he didn't immediately suspect a dalliance with the feds spoke for their relationship, though.

"That's what you told me all my life. 'If you're on a tiger's back you either keep riding or you'll be devoured' and all that. But..."

"Listen, Doll, you had a bad day. It happens" he told her affectionately. "Happens to the best. You should go home and try to sleep. Everything will be better tomorrow."

"You don't understand..." Sophia began, but was interrupted when the phone started ringing.

"Ah, that should be our inside man in the DA's office", Salvatore muttered somewhat absent-mindedly, took up the phone and listened.

And listened some more.

Finally, without a word he hung up and stared at Sophia, stone-faced.

She shrugged helplessly. "I told you it got messy, didn't I?"


	3. Fateful Meeting

AN: Draconis Incendium and Ondjage, thank you for your reviews. I'm glad you like this story, hopefully you'll enjoy the next chapter as well.

Also: Kids, don't play with acid.

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**Chapter 3:**

Well, she wasn't seeing the inside of a wood chipper, that had to count for something. Sophia stared down the road ahead while the sky to her left slowly started to light up. The sleepless night was taking its toll on her – she'd have to rest, and soon, or become a serious danger for everybody else on the road.

She and her uncle had talked a great deal this night. They had also screamed at each other quite a bit. Finally a mutual understanding had been reached, which included two heavily muscled gentlemen to accompany her to her apartment where she packed two bags with clothes, cosmetics and her emergency set of passport and credit cards which had nothing to with a Miss Bontate.

Judging by the expressions of her uncle's goons word was already out on Connor and the state of his corpse. Apparently the fellows didn't know whether to be awed or worried, but Sophia was not of a mind to tell them. Later a semi-official explanation would be 'leaked', according to which she had suffered a nervous breakdown and would spend some time in a facility. For Sophia that meant that she had to leave town immediately and stay off the radar until further notice.

She had begged her uncle to spare her mother the ugly details and he had consented, although her Dad would of course learn what had happened.

Anyway, her other father should be proud, she was on her way south, driving on the one highway that went completely parallel to the nearest degree of longitude, hoping she would actually recognize her destination when she got there. Seriously, you'd think a bloody God would be able to give better directions than 'down south'.

On one level Sophia still wondered why she had swallowed the whole thing so smoothly. She had been brought up in a spirit of pragmatism and mild paranoia; the proper course of action should be finding out who was trying to con her. Still, something deep in her bones told her that the cold-eyed old man was precisely who he claimed to be, and that taking off on this mad quest was the right thing to do.

Even so, when a rundown little motel appeared on the horizon Sophia decided postpone her quest in favor of a nap and hopefully a shower. After all it would be pretty anticlimactic for the daughter of a God – a Scion, he had called her – to end her life as a speck on the asphalt because of falling asleep behind the wheel.

* * *

Up close the building looked even more rundown. Stepping on the gravel that covered the parking lot Sophia arched her back and craned her neck until she heard a satisfying click right under her skull.

With a sigh she took her bags out of the trunk, closed up the car and slowly made for the main entrance. Somebody – probably in an attempt to make the place seem cozy – had placed a few benches and bushes in front of the motel. Most of the leaves were yellow and the paint was bleached and cracked, but one of the benches was actually occupied.

Three old ladies were sitting in the shade of the motel, bantering among themselves in low voices, crooked over something indefinable they had in their laps.

She had intended to just walk by them with a polite nod, but just before she was close enough for such a noncommittal greeting one of them dropped a ball of black yarn. It bounced off the stones and came to rest beneath one of the bushes, right next to her.

Suppressing a wince Sophia picked it up, brushed the dirt off the yarn as best as she could and then handed it back to one of the ladies with a polite smile.

"Thank you, love", the woman said. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing on the road, all by herself?"

"Being alone, it can be dangerous for a girl" her friend added, rummaging in her huge brown bag. With a triumphant grin she produced another pair of knitting needles and handed it over to the third old lady who was already unraveling the black wool. Sophia kept smiling, albeit a little more forced, while the women began to work the thread into what would become a hopelessly oversized sweater, adding yet another color to the pattern.

"I'll be just fine, thank you" she told them. "But I really have to take a nap now, it's been a long drive down here..."

Nodding absent-mindedly to the good wishes of the old ladies she continued her way into the shabby little motel.

* * *

Checking in had been quick and easy. To her satisfaction nobody had asked for an ID and the clerk had been more than happy to accept cash. Stifling a yawn Sophia climbed the stairs to the second floor and glanced at the numbers that decorated each door. The door to her right showed a brassy 29, so walking down the corridor felt like a very tiresome countdown. The building was completely silent, not too unusual given the time of day. However one of the rooms wasn't locked, leaving a clearance between door frame and door leaf.

More out of a reflex than conscious curiosity she snuck a peak – only to stop dead when she noticed an all too familiar color on the worn carpet. An unsettling amount of blood slowly oozed its way through the fabric. Very carefully Sophia lowered her bag onto the floor, took a step back and gingerly opened the door with her foot to look deeper into the room. The source of the sweet-smelling fluid was a heap in a corner of the room, half-hidden by a double bed. Somebody had covered the corpses with a sheet – perhaps mercifully, since the amount of blood didn't suggest a clean kill.

For a dangerously long moment Sophia just stared, completely absorbed by the sight. Before she could even decide whether to call somebody she felt a sharp pain on the back of her head. Then, everything went black.

* * *

When she woke she was lying on a cheap motel bed, her wrists and ankles taped together. It was a situation Sophia had feared ever since she had learned the first basics about the family business. It just figured that it would happen the day after she turned her back on it.

However, a discreet look around the room showed a comforting lack of knifes and saws but a startling variety of paper spread all over the floor. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of it was a haggard young man, clad in a disheveled business suit. It was a sight very different from what she had expected and she couldn't suppress a surprised noise. Right on cue he turned his head to look at her.

For a second they just stared at each other, then he got to his feet.

"Oh, you're awake. Look, I'm very sorry about all this."

"Ah..." Well, there were worse things a tied up girl could hear. Still, it took Sophia a few seconds to form a reply. "Ah, what?"

"Don't be scared, we won't hurt you", he told her and ran a nervous hand through his ash-blond hair. "We'll let you go as soon as we're out of here, I promise. We just can't let you call the police on us yet. Actually I'd prefer it if you wouldn't call the police at all but-"

"There are at least three dead bodies next door" Sophia said slowly and to her surprise it made him wince.

"Yes, I know that looks bad but..." He paused, then settled for something that was bound to reassure her. "Uh, we're not serial killers."

"That's good to know", she replied with a slightly hysterical grin.

"And we're not going to carve you up you or something."

"Great."

There was an awkward pause.

"Would you like something to drink?" he finally asked her, already moving towards the minibar.

She thought about it for a few seconds. Then she shook her head. "Best not, unless you want to help me use the bathroom in an hour or two."

He actually blushed at that. Sophia even believed him when he said that he wanted to let her go unharmed. However, the other part of 'we' might not be so forthcoming.

With some difficulty she worked herself up into a sitting position while the man quietly returned to his paperwork. Every once in a while he gave her an apologetic look.

The uneasy silence didn't last long, however. After about ten minutes the door opened and a man walked in, hastily locking up behind himself. This one was at least one head taller than his companion, clad in jeans and a black shirt, with dark hair and the tan and muscles of an outdoors person.

"How are you-" he began, but when his gaze fell on their captive he interrupted himself. "Damn", he muttered and turned towards the smaller man. "So you didn't think a blindfold might be a good idea?"

"Do you have one on you?" the other retorted with a shrug. "Because I'm not putting duct tape on anybody's face."

"Touching. So you'd rather put _our_ faces into her _head_?"

"Why not? You already took care of the evidence, so who's going to believe her about this?"

The taller one opened his mouth, then closed it again. Raising his hands in a frustrated gesture he turned towards Sophia. "Great. Well. You heard it. I know you saw some scary stuff in that other room, but like my – my colleague just said it's all taken care of, so you might as well save yourself the embarrassment of talking to the police."

Apparently neither was the sort to lightly kill innocent – or as the case might be, unrelated – bystanders. Despite her relief, she had to ask. "Just how do you 'take care' of three bloody corpses in-" She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. "- in less than twenty minutes?"

"Uh... Acid", he said quickly. "The speed in which it melts them down, you wouldn't believe it."

Indeed she didn't. She had never worked with acid herself but she had it on good authority that disappearing only one adult that way took at least three hours and more than 20 gallons of the vile stuff. "I see", she said neutrally and tried to look appropriately horrified. "And the blood on the carpet?"

"Bleach and soap. And some tomato juice to mask the remaining stains. I'll spend an hour scrubbing and still pay for the damned thing, but nobody is going to look at it and think 'blood'."

Sophia frowned. That would work. "All right, I... I don't want any trouble", she said a little awkwardly. "I won't go to the police, I promise." She even meant it - if for slightly different reasons than they might think.

The blond one seemed satisfied by her assurance. "See?" he said, turning to his partner. "No problem. You'll just have to do some carpet cleaning."

"Yeah. No problem", his partner muttered. "Still, next time we pass an adult store we're getting a blindfold."

* * *

Time passed slowly but it passed. Sophia pretended to be asleep while the shorter of her captors went through his paperwork and his partner presumably cleaned the crime scene. At least she supposed that was what he used the brush and carpet cleaner he had produced out of a suitcase for. Which was strange, because that meant the bodies were indeed taken care of. How on Earth did they manage that in twenty minutes? She couldn't figure it out.

While she pondered on this mystery the door opened once more – this time with more of a bang. The dark-haired man entered the room with a pair of wet spots on his knees and a worried expression on his face.

"Trouble", he muttered curtly. "Lots of trouble. Pack it up, break's over."

The smaller one scrambled to his feet, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"I just got jumped by the concierge", his partner replied. "He had – changed and tried to bludgeon me to death with a broom."

The blond one seemed strangely unperturbed by the news. "Hog?" he asked simply.

"Yeah."

"So there's a Circe in the building."

"Or close to it. So we either make a run for it or we kill her." After realizing what he just said he quickly turned to Sophia and added: "Sorry. Not you."

Had he but known it, Sophia was far too dumbstruck to be frightened. Of course. Two guys, talking about a character right out of Homer's Odyssey, chance met on the road, while going 'down south' to look for two so-called Scions... Who knew divine directions worked that way?

Praying that she hadn't horribly misunderstood everything she carefully asked them: "Hey. Does, uh, does the word 'Titanspawn' mean anything to you?"

Apparently it did, because she had their full attention within an instant. "Why do you ask?" the blond one asked her sharply.

It was a bit of a gambit, but being tied up and helpless, about anything was. "Because last night someone who called himself Hades claimed to be my biological father and told me to go south to two other Scions so we could slay some of it. The aforementioned Titanspawn, that is."

There was an awkward silence.

"Huh", the taller one finally said.

"Name's Sophia", she offered.

Finally the blond guy seemed to shake off his surprise. "I'm Karl, Scion of Odin", he said. "This is Jackson."

"I'm Sobek's", his dark-haired friend added. "The one with the crocodile head." Almost as an afterthought he produced a sharp-looking pocket knife. "Well, let's get rid of that tape stuff."

When he approached her with the blade Sophia involuntary tensed but his hands were gentle and he managed to cut her loose without as much as a nicking her.

With a muttered 'Thanks' she got to her feet and looked at the Scions expectantly. "So what happens now?"


	4. Dirty Work

**Chapter 4:**

Apparently one of the first rules of wasting Titanspawn was to always take good care of the paperwork. While Sophia's two new acquaintances gave her a primer on doing their fathers' work Karl feverishly assembled his books and notes, hopefully without misplacing too many of the yellow pads that framed dozens of pages. In the meantime Jackson threw what few clothes they had unpacked back into the two black bags.

"So, despite the name we're not dealing with the original Circe" he told Sophia and closed the zipper of the second bag. "Just some deranged woman who was wronged by one boyfriend to many, got mixed up with the Titans' servants and gained these magical powers."

"Like, what, a Faustian deal?"

"Much more basic", Karl put in. "She offers to become an instrument of wanton destruction, they make her an instrument of wanton destruction. The act is its own reward. That she loses most of her personality in the bargain – that's just how these things work."

Sophia flinched in disgust. "And once she gets even with the jerk?"

"She keeps going until somebody deals with her. That's a one-way-trip, headfirst into insanity."

"And the men she enslaves don't become ordinary domestic pigs, oh no", Jackson muttered. "That would be way too easy. She turns them into huge Hulk-like creatures with Hog's heads and claws – and of course they obey her every command."

"I suppose it's a one-way-trip for them, too?"

"Yes. Maybe the True Circe could return her victims back to normal but I don't think these crazy bitches would even know how."

"Mm."

With more concern than she had expected, Jackson eyed her. "You all right?"

Sophia hesitated. "I guess... When my father told me to do this I kind of expected... monsters. Not some poor idiots who made one bad choice in their lives or just met the wrong person." Embarrassed by her reaction, then, upon reflection, embarrassed by the fact that showing discomfort at shooting basically innocent people embarrassed her, she shrugged. "Don't worry, I'll get over it. It's just..." She let her voice trail of, not really sure what it was. "Well, yeah."

To her vast annoyance an uncomfortable silence followed her words.

"Hey, do you even know how to fight?" Karl suddenly asked, ignoring the sharp look his partner gave him. He seemed concerned but whether it was for her mental health or his physical safety, Sophia couldn't tell. Either way, he continued: "Usually a Scion gets some sort of gift upon his Visitation. Jackson here has a huge machete-"

"Khopesh", Jackson sighed.

"...whatever. And I have this blade I can stab someone with in a pinch but-"

"Hold that thought", Sophia interrupted him and turned to rummage in her own luggage. "Hades didn't leave me a weapon but my Dad – my Mother's husband", she clarified. "He gave me a little something... Ah, here it is." With a sardonic smile she pulled her Colt Delta Elite out of her stack of panties. A personal favorite.

For a few seconds they just stared at her. "Oh", Karl finally said. "Yeah, that should work."

"And, yes, I know how to use it", she added dryly. "Don't worry, I'm not useless. I'm just new at this."

"You'll get used to it soon enough" Jackson sighed, and pulled a foot-long blade out of a hidden compartment in his suitcase. On cue Karl produced a viscous looking knife that faintly looked like a spearhead. "Soon enough. Trust me on that one."

* * *

They were working their way downstairs which, in a two-story building, wasn't really saying much. Thankfully the motel seemed as good as empty – apart from their own, only three rooms showed signs of inhabitation. More specifically they showed the worldly possessions of the three men Jackson and Karl had encountered earlier.

To make sure they wouldn't have any ugly surprises later on, Sophia also peeked into the room where they had encountered them. The carpet was still dripping and the sharp smell of bleach hung heavily in the air, but what drew her eye was the broken window. Not just the glass but half the frame was gone. Out of morbid curiosity she stepped towards the gaping hole and stared at the contorted form of something that had been human only an hour ago.

She recognized the clerk's clothing, or what was left of it. His body was grotesquely swollen until the fabric had burst and he had lost both his shoes when his feet had been transformed into oversized hoofs. He was lying there face-down, but she could make out two leathery pig-ears, poking out of the young man's brown untidy hair.

Only after a few seconds she realized that this room was facing the road. She could even see her car in the parking lot, apparently unmolested. The three old ladies were nowhere to be seen, however.

"Something there?" Karl asked her when she didn't move for some time.

"No" she muttered, snapping out of it. "No, there's... nothing."

He frowned, but didn't press the issue. "Right. First floor seems to be clear, we'll go down now."

Without another word she followed him, weapon alert.

The lobby at the foot of the stairs was empty and almost offensively tidy. "Where to?" Jackson whispered and received a pointer from Karl. There was a door behind the counter, marked Personnel. Sophia gave them an encouraging nod and moved towards the other corridor that would lead to the rooms 11 to 19, ready to treat any intruder with suppressive fire.

The precaution turned out to be unnecessary, though. When Jackson carefully nudged open the Personnel door, they all heard the voice of the woman they were going to kill. It was a soft muttering, more sound than words. Abandoning her post at the door, Sophia followed the men into the dingy recreational room. When she saw the target, she swallowed forcefully.

The girl was young – probably not even eighteen. Her hair was wild and dirty, her face smeared with tears and cheap make-up. The blue, flowery cotton dress she wore was torn as well, exposing a pair of small white breasts..

She knelt on the floor, gently rocking back and forth, but when she noticed the Scions, she got to her feet with surprising ease. Her features – pretty, a bit on the chubby side – contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. It took Sophia a few seconds to realize that it was directed at her.

"You! Get out", she screamed. "Get out get out get out!_ You won't have him!_"

Taken aback by the fury in the girl's voice, Sophia hesitated. "I don't-"

"You won't make her stop", Jackson hissed. "Just get it over with."

"He's mine", the Circe wailed. "All mine now! All mine!"

Karl cursed under his breath. "Another one?"

"She won't get you, Dennis. And you won't get her. Kill her. _Kill her!_" Her last scream was like nothing human. Sophia raised her gun.

As a child she'd had a bike. And, as it always is with children, one day her front tire got caught up in something and she fell. It hadn't been much of an accident; a few scratches and a big scare,but she still remembered that split-second when she had been in the air. Somehow the moment had felt like forever, and with perfect clarity she had known that she was about to hit the ground, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She always felt like that when she pointed a gun at someone who was going to die by her hands.

The recoil felt harder than usual this time, but that was probably her imagination. The girl stumbled back, still staring at her. Blood sputtered out of the ghastly wound in her chest, splattering her breasts and soaking what was left of her dress. Then she collapsed, very quietly. Hopefully she hadn't even understood what happened.

For a second Sophia felt a wave of despair and disgust wash over her soul, almost to the point of making her nauseous. Grabbing the door frame for support she turned to face her companions, just as the cheap chipboard door to one of the adjoining rooms exploded. The creature that used to be a boy called Dennis stormed at them, its pig snout wide open in a bestial roar. Obscenely big teeth framed the jaws, sticking out of the inflamed gum at impossible angles. The boy's eyes were all but gone, shriveled and almost hidden in the meaty mass that once was human face.

With gritted teeth Sophia raised her gun again and emptied the magazine into his chest. The force of impact made him stumble back but with a sense of deja vu she realized that it wouldn't stop him. Just like Connor, only two days earlier, this one kept moving, kept coming at her. This time, however, she had backup.

Jackson jumped at the huge creature, his blade a shimmering circle. The hog roared in pain when he buried his weapon into its shoulder, all but severing the arm in the process. There was very little blood, she noted, almost detached. When the beast grabbed the wound with its good hand – Jackson had to make a hasty jump backwards to avoid being crushed – Karl used the moment to ram his mean looking knife into its throat. He missed the jugular, but apparently had damaged the airway. Wheezing and coughing the beast went to its knees, only to be stricken by Jackson's blade for the second time. The blow to the neck was by no means enough to chop off the head, but it was enough to instantly kill him.

For a minute they just stood there, staring at the carcass, ready to jump at it again, at the slightest movement. It didn't even twitch, however, and slowly, very slowly, they started to relax.

"Hey, uh, Sophie", Jackson started uncertainly. "Are you... How are you?"

"I'll live", she replied darkly. "Man, that thing was_ tough_." Glancing at her handgun, she gave a little frown. "I guess I'll have to get myself some bigger guns."

"Not necessarily", Karl opted. "Maybe if you aimed for the head-"

"Headshots are for showoffs and wannabes" she muttered, echoing something her Dad had told her a few years ago. Noticing the weird looks that statement earned her from the men, Sophia shrugged defensively. "What? Chests are just easier to hit."

"Uh... right." Jackson coughed nervously. "Anyway, we should do something about the corpses..."

"Like what, acid?" Sophia asked dryly.

"You didn't buy that, huh?"

"Not really, no. So is this another Scion thing? Just magicking the bodies away?"

The men exchanged a look. "Well, don't expect fairy dust", Karl advised her dryly. "It's..." He hesitated, then waved vaguely. "Jackson, just show her."

Curious despite herself, Sophia watched as he rammed the tip of his machete into the ground and then produced a hip flask. Muttering something under his breath, he poured a clear, scentless liquid on the gap in the floor. "River water", Karl told her in a low voice. "Now watch – ah, here they come."

Somehow the world became translucent for an instant, and as she stared at the cheap carpet, at the same time she was looking at dark, fertile mud, slick and wet. Her brain tried to make sense of it and failed miserably, but in her heart, Sophia knew that she was looking at the Nile – not the actual Nile but the idea, the soul of the river, the very essence of a life-granting sacred stream. Then she saw the crocodiles.

Five writhing bodies appeared in her vision, in that window between the real world and another, even more real world, crawling out of the river that had birthed them into the corridor, moving towards the bloody corpses of the girl and her monster.

Somewhat belatedly, realization hit her. "Oh no", she whispered. "Come on, this is... Guys, this is sick."

"We can't leave any evidence for the police", Jackson reasoned unhappily. "Especially not with the shape of those bodies."

"_I know that_", she snapped. Then, noticing that she still held the gun in her right hand, she forced herself to take a deep breath. "They'll eat the girl too, right?"

The uncomfortable silence told her enough.

"Great. I'm sure this'll be a great bonding experience." She tried to put her weapon away, then realized that she didn't wear her shoulder holster. With a sigh – and after making sure that the gun was indeed empty – she simply stuffed it into her waistband. "Say do we drag the clerk inside or can you take these little babies out for a walk?"

Karl spoke up. "Inside", he simply said. "Let's- all go, it'll be quicker that way."

Four of the crocodiles were already tearing at Dennis, biting him, ripping his body apart. The fifth moved towards the girl, sniffing at the blood-soaked cotton. As if on cue, all three Scions hastily made for the exit.

"We're cowards, you know that?", Karl muttered to no-one in particular.

Jackson glared at him. "We didn't have a choice, here" he said sharply, but his words lacked conviction.

Both glanced at Sophia as if hoping for a verdict of sorts, but she refused to look at either of them. Instead she just growled. "I really need a shower right now."


End file.
